


Rockets and Waterfalls

by englishghosts



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Kinktober 2018, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16272206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishghosts/pseuds/englishghosts
Summary: He wishes he could draw her like that: he hasn't so far, afraid he might get captured, that his notebook might fall into the wrong hands, but he commits the image to his memory, her head thrown back, red lips parted open in pleasure.





	Rockets and Waterfalls

**Author's Note:**

> OMG my first ever f/m porn.
> 
> Written for Kinktober 2018 Prompt 1 - Face-sitting. I don't know if I'm going to do all of them, but I read the list and got the idea for this.
> 
> Thanks to dinogiveafuck and DottieApple for the help!
> 
> Title from Rocket, by Beyoncé (I did google "songs about eating pussy" to name this, I suck at titles).

The sheets feel softer than anything he's ever had, even during the first few days, when nobody had quite known what to do with him and so they'd just given him a nice room and run some experiments. The whole bed is soft, and in the orange light of candle stubs the room has a dreamy quality.

And then there's Peggy: Steve can't pry his eyes away from her. She is sitting by her vanity table, pulling pins out of her hair. It falls down her shoulders in dark curls, and his fingers clench around the headboard with the itch to touch her, run his fingers through her hair, kiss the soft skin on her neck, down to where her dark red silk robe ends and the curve of her breasts begins.

But she'd told him to stay put, and Steve had learned from day one that you were not supposed to disobey Peggy's orders.

“Are you alright?” She asks, meeting his eyes on the mirror, before nodding at his hard cock. It has been like that since she'd ordered him inside, really, and being told to undress and lie back while she undid her hair had done nothing to help.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat feels dry. “Better if you were here.”

“You're too impatient,” she says, but she smiles softly. Steve has a mind to just get up and touch her, but then she stands up and unties her robe, lets it slide down her shoulders.

He doesn’t think the sight of her naked body will ever cease to amaze him. It's nothing like the Tijuana bibles Bucky used to sneak to him when he was sick, nothing like smuggled pictures of pin ups and soldier's girlfriends. She is here, and she is real, and she smells of expensive perfume but also of gun oil and the London air.

She runs her hands up her arms, showing off her breasts, and Steve's cock twitches.

“Please,” he begs, dizzy with want.

“Oh, all right.” She lets out a long suffering sigh, but she is still smiling as she climbs on top of him on the bed, careful not to brush against his cock. Her cunt slides hot against his stomach as she settles on top of him, her hands on his shoulders.

“Can I...?” He asks, and interrupts himself, because she's told him a hundred times he doesn't need to ask for permission every time he wants to touch her. He is still tentative about running his hands up her thighs, her stomach, he always is, because sometimes he still forgets the full extent of his new strength. She arches into the touch and he gets bolder then, cups her full breasts in his hands, circles her nipples with his thumbs. She moans softly, arching into the touch.

He wishes he could draw her like that: he hasn't so far, afraid he might get captured, that his notebook might fall into the wrong hands, but he commits the image to his memory, her head thrown back, red lips parted open in pleasure. He slides his hand into the wiry curls between her legs, gets his fingers wet before sliding them up into the place that makes her thighs tremble. Her fingernails leave welts on his shoulders as she holds him tighter. She leans forward to kiss him and her lips taste waxy from her lipstick. Steve's brain is conditioned to associate the color and taste with her, with sex, so that the sight of the lipstick prints on her coffee cup can be enough to have him struggling through meetings trying to pretend his dick isn't hard.

Peggy throws her head back in a moan as Steve slides a finger into her, and he takes the chance to lick a stripe between her breasts, suck a nipple into his mouth. His own moan is muffled as she clenches around his finger, hard, and he imagines it around his cock. He curls his finger and sucks harder, tries to get her to do it again.

“Stop,” she orders, breathless, and he does. She pulls away from his fingers and his mouth and kisses him again. As she does so, she arches her back until her ass is pressed against his cock, and he groans into her mouth, tries to get closer, to rub against her. “Make me come on your mouth,” she says, and Steve’s mouth waters.

“Anything you want,” he nods, pulling her to him by her waist. She scoots up on the bed, until she's straddling his neck with her knees. He grips her thighs gently, coaxes her to lower herself onto his mouth.

He can feel a drop of precome slide down his cock at the first taste of her. Steve had always heard guys talking about this, as a means to an end. Get her nice and wet so you can give it to her easier. But the first time they'd done this he had been so astonished by it, the taste of her wetness, the pleasure he was clearly giving her, that he came in his pants when she did. They had still made love afterwards, God bless the superserum, but still, this was something in itself.

She pulls on his hair, guiding him to where she wants his head and he follows, using his fingers to spread her thighs wider, pull her closer. Her fingernails dig into his hair and she cries out when he licks where she wants him to.

She lets out a ragged moan and by now he's figured out that means harder, so he complies, sucks her heated flesh into his mouth until she's moaning non stop, one of her hands on her nipple and the other pulling his hair so hard it hurts. He lets go of her legs for a second so he can grip his cock, pump it a couple of times, just to calm himself a little. Then, he plunges his tongue inside her, as deep he can.

She is getting close now, he can tell by her ragged breathing, by the way she presses herself so hard against him that it cuts off his air supply sometimes. He keeps licking as fast and as hard as he can, because gentle doesn't get her there when she's already close.

She comes with a soft gasp, her thighs shaking around his ears, her breasts heaving. He keeps licking her through it, just to see her shiver with overstimulation, until she whimpers and tries to get away. Her knees are still weak, so he holds her up, away from his mouth, but he still can't help himself pressing kisses to the soft skin on the inside of her thighs. Finally, she lets herself on the bed next to him, a little less gracefully than she usually moves.

Steve wipes his chin with the back of his hand and kisses her. Peggy kisses back, wrapping her leg around his waist to pull him closer. His cock brushes against her and he groans as it slides against her wetness. He is so close.

“Peg…” he begs, because his cock is throbbing with need. She wraps soft fingers around him and pumps slowly.

“Get a rubber,” she says, and makes to push him away, but he stops her, keeps her hand around him, because he can't bear getting away from her now, not even for a second.

“Later... just…” he trails off into a moan as she scratches his balls lightly with her fingernails. He feels stupid, his brain addled by pleasure, and he can't decide if he wants to hide his face against her shoulder or watch. He ends up half on top of her, mindful of his weight but still pressed as close as possible, and that way he can see her elegant fingers wrapped around his cock, the blood red nails scratching against his skin every now and then, because it hadn't taken her long to figure out gentle doesn't do it for him either. 

She lets go of him for a moment and slides her hand between her legs. He only has a second's warning to realize what she is doing before she puts her hand back on him, except now her fingers slide easier with her wetness. He comes soon after that, breaks apart in her arms and spills over her hand, her stomach. The room smells of sex, of her, and he feels so giddy with pleasure that he smothers a laugh against her shoulder.

He tries to settle against her without moving too much, because his limbs feel like jelly. He ends up with his head on her shoulder. She runs her fingers through his hair, pushes it away from his sweaty forehead, and he kisses her shoulder, her breasts, anything he can reach without moving too much. 

“I missed you,” he says. He had spent four months away on a mission while she'd been at the London base. Four months with strictly professional communication between them, and very sparsely.

Peggy kisses his temple before whispering, “I missed you too.”

Later, he wakes up with a start, but it's only the rain against the window, so he pulls the covers over them and falls back asleep.


End file.
